Chapter 224: The Ruin Maker

Rhaegar stood at the bow of the ship, his eyes locked on the approaching dragon. As Cannibal drew parallel with the warship, he seized his moment and leapt.

**Plop!**

He landed heavily on Cannibal's back, rolling to absorb the impact before gripping the dragon's scales firmly. Standing tall, Rhaegar shouted joyfully, "Cannibal, let's go!"

Cannibal roared, lifting its head high and flapping its massive wings. With a powerful thrust, they ascended into the air.

Below, Robb watched in awe, his mouth agape at the sight. Rhaegar and Cannibal—man and dragon—no, it was man and two dragons. As Cannibal soared skyward, Rhaegar perched on its back, they quickly vanished into the morning sun's golden sea of clouds.

The Gray Ghost, not wanting to be left behind, roared in frustration and took off in pursuit. Together, the two dragons climbed higher and higher until they disappeared into the horizon.

...

At the same time.

Inside the castle on Dragonstone Island.

Rhaenyra lay on the bed, dark circles under her eyes, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Ever since Rhaegar decided to attack the Triarchy Kingdom, she hadn't closed her eyes for days. She was deeply worried.

Looking out the window, she saw the foggy sky, another sleepless night. Her eyes filled with fatigue, she shook the bell on the bedside table.

Creak...

The door opened, and a beautiful young girl from a foreign land walked in.

Rhaenyra asked, "Sara, did Rhaegar tell you when he will be back?"

Sara, the maid Rhaegar had assigned to her, shook her head and replied dryly, "No."

"How many soldiers did Rhaegar take with him?" Rhaenyra asked again.

"I don't know," Sara responded tersely.

Sensing Sara's cold attitude, Rhaenyra bit her lip. "Tell me what you do know."

Rhaegar had specially assigned this personal maid before his departure; she couldn't believe Sara knew nothing.

As expected, Sara hesitated before her lips curled into a meaningless smile. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Of course, tell me," Rhaenyra said, unable to stand Sara's arrogant attitude and growing emotionally annoyed.

Sara's voice was faint, "I'm afraid if I tell you, you'll feel pressured." She walked slowly to the bedside and sat down without hesitation.

Rhaenyra pushed herself up, her face expressionless. "Tell me, word for word."

"As you wish." Sara stroked her long hair, deliberately drawing it out, and said mysteriously, "My mission was simple. The prince gave me only two instructions."

"What are they?" Rhaenyra's gaze was harsh, urging her to speak quickly.

Sara smiled unconcernedly. "One, to keep you safe."

"And two?" Rhaenyra pressed.

Sara's words trailed off into a teasing smile.

Slap...

Rhaenyra raised her hand and slapped her across the face, furious. "Bitch, I am the princess of Dragonstone Island, Rhaegar's sister, and you dare to tease me!?"

Who did she think she was to give me such an arrogant look?

Sara, her head whipped to the side, a trace of blood at the corner of her mouth, responded, "Well, you made me say it." She resumed her cool demeanor under Rhaenyra's furious gaze. Her eyes were ice-cold as she said, "Second, if the prince has any accidents, I am to immediately assassinate the queen and the remaining three princes."

Upon hearing this, Rhaenyra was instantly stunned. Thousands of emotions flooded her, her eyes wide with disbelief. She stammered, "Assassinate Alicent... and..."

Sara cut her off coldly, "Aegon, Aemond, and Prince Daeron."

Before leaving, Rhaegar expected to win but prepared for the worst. If he were to meet a fate similar to Aemon Targaryen, assassinated, or Rhaenys Targaryen, shot in the eye by a scorpion crossbow and dying with her dragon, then his shadow would kill Alicent and his three half-brothers immediately, paving the way for Rhaenyra to inherit the Iron Throne.

You shouldn't blame him for being cruel. While alive, Rhaenyra was his sister and his brothers were his valuable assets. If he died, Rhaenyra was still his sister, and his brothers were a destabilizing factor.

Rhaegar had only one thought: "Keep Rhaenyra safe at all costs."

Rhaenyra was in a daze, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. "Rhaegar..."

She wanted to say something, but her throat felt blocked, choking on her words.

...

King's Landing, Red Keep.

"Skylar, prepare breakfast for me. I'm going to meet the King later."

Inside the bedroom, Jeyne's eyes were sleepy as she softly called out to her personal maid.

"Yes, Lady Jeyne."

Skylar pulled open the curtains and then gently stepped out of the room.

Bang...

The door closed.

Skylar leaned her back against the door, glancing around vigilantly.

Confirming that no one was there, she reached into her chest and pulled out a piece of letter paper and a small glass bottle, about the thickness of a finger.

The glass bottle was delicate and filled with a clear, transparent liquid.

Skylar glanced back at the door of the room, her eyes looked dark and uncertain, and opened the note to read it over.

There were three small lines on the note:

1. Protect Jeyne's safety.

2. If there is an accident, urge Jeyne to support Rhaenyra.

3. If Jeyne and Rhaenyra turn against each other...

There was another paragraph at the end, which Skylar skipped.

She crumpled the note a few times and swallowed it. After a month of close contact, she had come to sincerely admire the lady in the room.

Looking at the only remaining vial in her hand, Skylar's eyes flickered with struggle, and she hid it deep in her chest.

She firmly believed that, aside from the first directive on the letter, the other two should never be used.

...

The sun rose slowly over Myr, one of the three Free Cities, revealing a surprisingly clear sky.

"Roar.."

The roar of a dragon echoed through the air, followed by an intense wave of dragonfire that grew in ferocity. Two dragons, one black and one gray, soared above, their flames relentlessly raining down on the city below.

Within an hour, smoke rose from the ruins and severed limbs littered the ground. Myr's defenses, slightly stronger than Lys', included a few scorpion crossbows mounted in the city's towers.

The first volley was aimed at the dragons, but their wrath was swift. Enraged, the dragons unleashed torrents of dragonfire, melting the towers to lava and incinerating the defenders inside.

At the Colosseum, chaos reigned.

"Charge, he's here!"

A massive garrison stormed through the gates, their faces grim as they searched for the intruder.

Clang...

A shackle hit the ground with a crisp sound, startling the guards. Their fierce gazes fell upon a silver-haired young man in a tattered black robe, standing defiantly before the slaves' enclosure. His head held high, he stared back indifferently.

The sight of the silver-haired boy ignited a frenzy among the guards. Enraged, they charged forward, shouting at the top of their lungs.

"Kill him, kill him!"

"Tear him apart!"

Hundreds of guards rushed at him, but Rhaegar's expression remained unchanged. He faced them with calmness. With a flick of his right hand, a lance appeared in his grasp. His left hand drew Dragonclaw from his waist.

"You will pay for your actions," Rhaegar declared, advancing steadily. Wielding both the spear and the sword with fluid grace, he prepared for battle.

The spear, called "Morning Sun", was a new name he had chosen for his weapon after leaving Lys.

Both the Morning Sun and the Dragonclaw were forged from the same Valyrian steel batch, its shaft was made of hardened wood, and the one-foot spearhead was particularly deadly.

"Kill!" The guards charged, but Rhaegar was unfazed.

The Morning Sun struck out, piercing a man's eye socket, killing him instantly. The Dragonclaw parried a knife and an axe, then slashed upward, severing another man's head.

Rumble...

As the swordsmen clashed, the iron fence gate at the back creaked open, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Clang...

The rattle of chains echoed as a large group of muscular slaves stood behind the gate, their shackles loose and ready for battle.

"Charge! Kill the slave master's dogs!" roared the tallest slave, his uncuffed shackles swinging like a morningstar.

At his command, the slaves surged forward. From above, they looked like a flood, quickly filling the colosseum.

Rhaegar plunged into the center of the guards, his spear and sword cutting through the air with deadly precision. No one dared to come within seven feet of him. After slaying a dozen, the battle began to wane.

Slaves overran the arena, and the hundreds of guards quickly found themselves overwhelmed. Those on the outskirts were chained by their necks and dragged out. The remaining guards were crushed under the weight of the pressing slaves.

Rhaegar raised his weapons high and bellowed, "Those who seek freedom, come with me and seize the ships in the harbor!"

"As you command, my lord!" the slaves shouted, their excitement palpable as they followed Rhaegar out of the colosseum.

"Roar..."

The Gray Ghost glided overhead, and Dragonfire obliterated the colosseum, erasing the place of suffering and cruelty.

Rhaegar led the freed slaves to the harbor, leaving them with a final message: "If you have nowhere else to go, follow me to Westeros!"

The Cannibal descended from the sky, and Rhaegar mounted the dragon. Under the watchful eyes of countless slaves, he soared into the sky.

"Roar ga..."

Before departing, Cannibal and Gray Ghost unleashed their final breaths of Dragonfire, reducing the remaining warships in the harbor to ashes.

Rhaegar gazed down at the slaves boarding the ships below, his heart swelling with a newfound sense of purpose.

His father's revocation of his military power had sparked a change in Rhaegar. He now sought a larger army and a territory entirely under his command. The slaves he had freed were his ideal soldiers and commanders.

As Cannibal soared through the clouds, Rhaegar opened his arms to the mist and cool breeze. Closing his eyes in ecstasy, he murmured, "Father, King's Landing is no longer my only goal. This young dragon will finally fly high."

King's Landing had been a shelter for years. Now, he was ready to grow. A dragon was destined for the sky and the sea.

Opening his eyes with newfound clarity, Rhaegar declared, "Next stop, Tyrosh!"

"Roar..."

In response, two dragon roars, one high and one low, stirred the clouds as they sped towards their next conquest.

...

The King's Palace.

The King's Bedchamber.

Viserys sat dispiritedly at the table, idly fiddling with the stone sculptures that cluttered its surface. Aside from banquets and tournaments, stone carving was one of his few hobbies.

He had been carving alongside the artisans for several years and had crafted a complete replica of the "Fortress of Freedom" in Old Valyria.

Viserys picked up a dragon sculpture, examining it closely before placing it in front of him. He repeated the process with a second, then a third, until five dragon statues stood shakily before him.

Despite his usual passion for stone carving, Viserys found no joy in it today. He felt feverish and restless.

Rhaegar had been gone for five days following their confrontation. In that time, Viserys received a letter from Aegon informing him that Rhaegar had defied his orders and led a surprise attack on Tyrosh with 2,000 soldiers.

"Alas, it was too risky. I should have sent more troops with him," Viserys sighed deeply, tilting his head back in resignation.

(Word count: 1,905)